


Moments in the Life

by Donteatthefootcream



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Is Soft, Basically married, Crowley is whipped, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I briefly project at some points, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, adopting a cat, moments in the life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-05-20 22:56:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donteatthefootcream/pseuds/Donteatthefootcream
Summary: Their lives have changed... for the better. No more "sides". No more writing out reports to their superiors. Simply them together being in love.





	Moments in the Life

**Author's Note:**

> Good Omens? In my work page? Yes, it is now a thing. Hope you guys enjoy! :)

After Not-Armageddon and the successful scheme against Heaven and Hell, things were expected to go back to normal. They didn't. Even though Aziraphale and Crowley continued to spend time together, the entire atmosphere was different. There was no more of the Arrangement, they weren't doing Heaven and Hell's deeds anymore, and there was no more fear of their bosses figuring out their friendship. Now, they're free to do whatever pleases them. Go to St. James' Park, dine at the Ritz, have Aziraphale actually admit that Crowley was his friend. Neither of them are complaining, it just feels a bit unreal.

 

The tension between the pair began to feel open to advances. Crowley could see his chance finally given after 6000 years of pining and reluctant acceptance. Aziraphale? He could see something changing. It is not as if he hasn't felt Crowley's love, he simply took a few thousand years to understand where the love was coming from. He's quite oblivious sometimes. It's all a bit daunting, having to face Crowley and then change a relationship they've kept pretty steady for thousands of years.  

 

There was a bang of the shop door opening, announcing his hardly demonic presence. The shop was preferably empty apart from Aziraphale and the clutters of books. The angel is barely shaken, beginning to become used to Crowley's dramatic entrances. His auburn hair looks as if his hands have run through it multiple times and his stance is more confident than usual. Aziraphale is overrun with the feeling, possibly stronger than ever before.  _Love._

 

"Hello, Crowley," Aziraphale greeted cheerfully, closing his book gently. 

 

The demon whips off his glasses, folding them to hang on the collar of his dark shirt. "Angel," He responded, "Something has been nagging me for the past several millennia, and with no longer us having to follow 'the rules' I would like to act on my... feelings. For you. I was thinking for the longest time that being unusually...  _kind_ to you along with saving your celestial ass a handful of times you'd get the hint, but clearly you haven't due to it being  _six thousand years!_ "

 

Yes, here they were, the official confirmation of feelings. Could his confession have been sweeter and less impatient? Well yes, but that was not the point. No longer would Aziraphale assume the feeling of love was from Crowley, or blushing at strangers believing they were a couple. This was all rather nice to realize at the time. 

 

He sent Crowley a smile, a welcoming and warm one. "I love you too, my dear," Aziraphale reciprocated, "It took me quite some time to realize, you see, but we're here now so what does it matter?"

 

Crowley sauntered forward, rotating his hips the way he does, and sweeps the angel into his arms, kissing him so gently Aziraphale hardly believed it was real. It was gentle and so loving. He was ashamed to think that at a time he assumed Crowley to be incapable of love (ex: being oblivious to the the love radiating off of the demon) when he can give a kiss as passionate as this. 

 

"Does this make us...  _boyfriends_?" Aziraphale breathed out, pulling away just enough to speak. 

 

Crowley frowned, clearly displeased. "Boyfriends? Why put a gender on it, Angel?" He cupped his love's face, "Partners? Much more general."

 

He smiled, overwhelmed with the softness of it all. "Yes. Yes, that seems appropriate."

 

"Glad you think so, Angel." He leaned in again, kissing Aziraphale all over again. His smile pressed against the other's lips. 

 

The bookstore stayed closed for the rest of the day. There was many kisses to be made up for afterall. 

 

 

Crowley slowly but surely began to move into Aziraphale's place of residence. There were bits and pieces of him throughout the bookshop. Plants in the windows, spare sunglasses in the living area, his favorite blends of coffees and teas in the kitchen, his darkly colored clothes now in the bedroom. In the beginning, it was unclear of the changes that were taking place, but Aziraphale was adjusted. He enjoys Crowley's presence more than he thought he would. Love, you know?

 

"Crowley, you can't scream at the plants!" Aziraphale told him sternly, "It's two in the morning!"

 

Although two in the morning is nothing to Aziraphale, the couple has neighbors. Neighbors would could most definitely hear Crowley's distress if the street was quiet enough. He was  _not_ in the mood to deal with police for a domestic disturbance so early in the morning. 

 

Crowley grumbled, gesturing to a smaller plant near the window overlooking the streets. "He has a spot, Angel! My collection will not be ruined by some pathetic-"

 

Aziraphale approached the demon, pajama clad and glasses on his face from his recently interrupted reading. He was quite a sight to Crowley, looking so soft and innocent. Then he began to feel guilty, disturbing Aziraphale's nightly reading by putting the fear of Crowley in his plants. 

 

"I'm sure the little one can wait until morning, dear," Aziraphale assured, rubbing a hand down his lover's arm. 

 

Crowley glared at the plant, his expression seen by his glasses somewhere else in the flat. "I think I should at least put it out of its misery. You wouldn't want to be awake all night knowing you'll be killed the next morning."

 

The angel knew this was the best he'd get so he allowed Crowley to complete his execution. However, he was surprised when he saw what  _truly_ happened when a plant was sentenced to death. Crowley transferred the plant into a different pot and placed it in the kitchen window silently, probably not wanting to say anything that would blow his demon cover. Aziraphale watched in awe. Yes, his demon was _nice_. 

 

"Why?" Aziraphale asked, pointing to the plant in its new home. 

 

Crowley stood in silence for a few moments, arms crossed and looking away from him. Maybe he shouldn't have asked, maybe he shouldn't have even watched Crowley "kill" his failed plant. This is why moving in intimidated him when he realized what was going on. Privacy was going to be intruded, intentional or not. 

 

"Why should I punish something for trying its best?" Crowley finally said, softly. 

 

That's all Aziraphale needed to understand. _The Fall._ He took Crowley's hand, giving it a squeeze and placing a quick kiss upon his partner's lips. "Come to bed. I'll read to you."

 

"What book is it?"

 

" _Pride and Prejudice_ again, I'm afraid. I was hoping for a trip back to the early 1800's." He smiles. He always did like the 19th century. 

 

Crowley hummed. "I liked Jane Austen. Very progressive woman."

 

Aziraphale led Crowley back to the bedroom where his reading is surprisingly entertaining. Crowley never expected the angel to do the voices, and he doesn't really, but he's relatively good at changing tones. He thinks he does a marvelous job at the god- satan? who knows? awful marriage proposals. 

 

 

On the nights where Crowley does decide to sleep, he's miserable to wake up in the morning. He grumbles and turns away and it'll be _at least_ thirty minutes until Aziraphale can get him out of bed. He always manages though, Crowley being utterly and completely in love with the angel. 

 

"A new café opened today, dear, and I was thinking we could go and try it? The first day _is_ the toughest," Aziraphale suggested to him. 

 

It was seven in the morning, Crowley was wrapped in a blanket, drinking his coffee slowly and looking very blank. Aziraphale keeps talking anyway, filling Crowley in on his plans for the day. Most didn't need Crowley to accompany him, but he knew he would. Crowley will complain about it, yet come nonetheless. He stopped wondering why and simply began enjoying their time together. 

 

Aziraphale placed a muffin in front of Crowley, chocolate chip because he can't see his love eating any other kind, and kissing his cheek. This provoked a response out of Crowley who turned his head to catch Aziraphale's lips with his own. 

 

"You are breathtaking, you know that?" Crowley said quietly. 

 

He blushed, running a hand through the auburn hair. "Thank you, my love." 

 

For the rest of breakfast, Aziraphale will eat his breakfast with Crowley watching fondly. He'll listen to Crowley's complaints and questions of  _why_ they have to run errands, and he'll respond with explanations and reminders that Crowley doesn't  _have_ to go only to earn an eye roll in return. Eventually, Crowley will leave the table, muffin half eaten, to go get dressed into his dark stylish attire. He'll wait patiently as Aziraphale locks up the shop, pecking him on the lips soon after. He'll hold Bentley's door open for his angel because he's a gentleman who loves his angel too much to be anything less than a  _perfect, polite_ significant other. 

 

"The new coffee shop, Angel?" Crowley asked. 

 

"Yes, dear," Aziraphale replied, gripping the door to prepare for the reckless driving. 

 

The truth is: Crowley would  _never_ drive the way he does if he wasn't able to, definitely with his ptecious Aziraphale in the car. Aziraphale's fear is reasonable, but Crowley wouldn't let  _anything_ happen to him. Being a demon is a number two priority on Crowley's list, protecting and making Aziraphale happy is the first. 

 

 

Love is irrational and scary. There's constantly the fear of when it's all going to end in hurtful flames. The fear that it'll be lost. The fear that it'll become boring. The fear that they'll leave. Fears are usually unreasonable. It's also quite human. 

 

Crowley was wrapped around the angel, head on his chest, feet tangled together, one hand in his hair while the other is holding him. Who would have known that the demon would be a needy cuddler? There's one or more cuddles every day. On the couch, in Aziraphale's chair, hugging him tightly and warmly for long stretches of time, in their shared bed. He's much more adorable than he lets on. 

 

After 6000 years, the two of them are here, sharing a flat and their everyday lives, but what if it all ends? What if Aziraphale books and reading becomes boring to his dearly loved demon, the man who is constantly moving unless he's sprawled on the couch in the sun? Or, what if Crowley's sass, teasing, and little tricks ultimately hurts the angel? The possible results of this new arrangement are unnerving when they think too hard about it. 

 

"I can feel you thinking," Crowley groaned, "What are you thinking about?"

 

In a state of panic, Aziraphale lied and said, "Are we gay?"

 

He could feel Crowley frown in confusion. "No."

 

"No?"

 

"We have no assigned gender. No gender means that we don't  _really_ have a sexuality label. We're just... together. Besides, why does there have to be a label? I hate all these human expectations."

 

Aziraphale smiles, petting Crowley's hair. "I suppose you're correct."

 

Crowley kissed his chest through his shirt, grinning. "Anything else, Angel? I can feel you buzzing still."

 

"Are you ever scared of the 'what ifs', Crowley?" Aziraphale asked him. He hates that he felt the need to ask. 

 

"Don't think about those," Crowley mumbled, nearly dazed. 

 

"How could I not? You're changing every decade, Crowley, fitting in with the times! And well, I'm not. I hardly change every century." He runs his hands through Crowley's hair, receiving a content sigh in return, "I'll get boring, my dear."

 

Crowley sat up, surprising Aziraphale. He didn't believe this would trigger such a response. "Aziraphale, if I thought you were boring, wouldn't I have left centuries ago? Don't you think I might find your old-fashion dress and lack of understanding when it comes to the modern trends sweet?"

 

"Oh."

 

"Yes, 'oh'." Crowley leaned in to kiss the angel. "You think too much, Angel."

 

Aziraphale chuckled. "Perhaps I do."

 

He kissed him again. "It's alright. One of the  _many_ things I adore about you."

 

He pulled Crowley down on top of him, holding him tight. Crowley laughed, peppering kisses on any skin he could get to. Light and soft kisses that made Aziraphale smile and impossibly hold him closer. Crowley does manage to move out of his angel's grip, rolling off to get back in the position he was originally. He moved his head to the crook of Aziraphale's neck, nuzzling into him. 

 

"We should do something spontaneous one of these days," He told him amused, "Adopt a cat. Go on vacation, maybe Washington DC? I would love to pull a prank."

 

"Or, we could adopt a cat, but instead of pulling a prank on Washington, we free those kids at the border?"

 

"Hmm. I like the way you think, Angel." 

 

"It's a date then."

 

Aziraphale turned off the table lamp, blanketing the two in darkness. He's comfortable with Crowley using him like a pillow, his warm breath against his neck calming. He falls asleep to Crowley making arbitrary patterns and shapes on his chest. 

 

 

In the middle of figuring out some logical, safe plan on saving the migrant children, they adopted a cat... okay, two cats. The original plan was to get one, but they both found one they couldn't let go so they simply got two. No need for a fight over cats. Crowley was drawn to the big, fluffy white one with pale blue eyes. Aziraphale? The sleek black cat with golden eyes. Crowley felt so loved and Aziraphale chuckled when he saw their picks.  _Of course._

 

"He knocked over the plant again, Angel!" Crowley complained, making a big show of the soil on the ground surrounding the unintentional victim. "This is absolutely ridiculous! Why can't he stay still for once? This cat has far too much energy!"

 

Aziraphale smiled knowingly. "Now you know how it's like to live with you."

 

Crowley scowled, grumbling under his breath. He knelt to the ground, inspecting the plant. "The plant will live, thanks for asking."

 

"Very good!" He pats Crowley's shoulder. "I'll go get you the vacuum."

 

Aziraphale went back to his chair and continued reading while Crowley cleaned up the cat's mess. The star of the show cleaning itself in the sun. Yes, very much like Crowley. 

 

"I can't believe I suggested Raphael for him," Crowley said to himself, "I'm just making myself look bad."

 

Aziraphale ignored him. 

 

On the other hand, the fluffy white one, who Aziraphale said should be named Atticus was peaceful. Crowley groaned at the name suggestion, but gave in because it only seemed to fit. He kept out of things, and his daily routine consisted of eating and sleeping. He was a very respectable cat. He was also  _very_ in love with Crowley. 

 

"What? No!" Crowley exclaims as the fluff of white fur walks through the dirt. "Now, you're going to be tracking dirt-!"

 

Crowley picked up the cat, holding it against his chest. He carried it over to Aziraphale, placing it in his lap. The angel was startled, but he doesn't complain, the cat curls up in his lap. He examined his paws to find that, fortunately, there was very little dirt on his them. They were all lucky. 

 

"I hate these blasted animals!" Crowley shouted, picking up the shattered pot. 

 

"It was  _your_ idea, my dear," Aziraphale reminded him. "Besides, Atticus over here is in love with you. You can't hate him."

 

He looked over at Aziraphale, pieces of pots in his hand, and softens. Raphael behind him in the window, probably plotting some other devious scheme. Atticus curled up in a ball on his favorite angel's lap. It's all very nice. "I love you."

 

Aziraphale looked away, a sheepish smile on his face. "I love you too, dear."

 

Yes, the two cats are a pain in their own way. Raphael will continue to break things, wake them up in the middle of their sleep, and scratch them just for petting him. Atticus will continue to walk into the messes the other makes to follow Crowley around, and he'll keep eating until the vet says that he's at risk of feline diabetes. They make a diet for him after that.

 

 

The shop majority of the time is empty. Aziraphale makes sure of that. Varying the ridiculous store hours. Arguing with the customers or giving them foul looks. He's even let Crowley work some of his demonic magic on the customers. Unfortunately though, he does have to let people buy books every now and then. They're not first edition or signed, obviously. He could never part with any of those treasured items. 

 

If Crowley was not upstairs sleeping or out in London doing whatever he does, he's sprawled out in the bookshop. He takes up the chair in the far corner, the sunlight shining through onto his body. Usually he's on his phone, but every now and then Aziraphale might catch him with a book or magazine in his hands. Aziraphale enjoys the presence of his dearest Crowley, he simply lights up the room in his own way. 

 

Although Crowley lights up the room, there are some downfalls to his appearances. He's attractive and gives off the "bad boy" vibe. Girls want him. Guys want him. They stare, flirt, stand near him for far too long, but their advances are never returned. They're either ignored or rejected with some cold remark. Aziraphale is never worried about some other scooping up Crowley, it's clear where the demon's love and loyalty lie. To the owner of the bookstore. 

 

"Do you know where I could find Sylvia Plath?" One customer asked Crowley one day. Ah yes, the questions. An easy way to gain his attention. 

 

Aziraphale could tell Crowley was glancing at him, even with the sunglasses on. 

 

He scoffs, flipping a page of his magazine. "Do I look like someone who even knows who  _Sylvia Plath is_?" Crowley counters. The young woman stutters, just to be cut off by him, "Why don't you ask my darling, Aziraphale where to find it? He does own the place."

 

Crowley smirked as the woman walks off defeated, reluctantly approaching Aziraphale who gladly tells her that they don't have any Sylvia Plath on the shelves at the moment, which is not a lie because she is not on shelves. She is somewhere on a table in all of this clutter. The woman gave him a forced smile with a pained thank you and goes on her way.

 

"Do you actually not know who Sylvia Plath is?" Aziraphale questioned, astonished. 

 

"Of course I know who Sylvia Plath is!" Crowley assures, "I've read 'Initiation', Angel."

 

"Very good. I was almost worried I'd have to read you some of her works. Not like I'm complaining-"

 

The demon stood up and bent backwards, stretching his back. He made his way over to the angel, merely to cup his face and place a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I love you."

 

Aziraphale was slightly put off by the sudden declaration, but had no reason to complain. "I love you too, dear."

 

Crowley placed a kiss next on his cheek. "I'm very thankful for you, you know?"

 

The angel nodded, still surprised by Crowley's affection. "I'm very thankful for you too, dear. But, what has this got to do with anything?"

 

He shrugged. "You're desirable on occasion. That's all."

 

He hummed, smiling. "Well... you're incredibly handsome."

 

"Don't I know it, Angel." This time, he kissed him on the lips passionately. 

 

Aziraphale miracled the sign to say "Closed". It's times like these where this arrangement all makes sense. The cats, who adore their dads, strutting around the apartment upstairs. Crowley being so clearly devoted to him, something that makes Aziraphale somehow even more in love with the demon. He wouldn't trade this new, free life for anything. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing for these two. I really hope this worked out.
> 
> Naming the cats was so hard. I love that whole Raphael headcanon so I went with that. Atticus? A famous, respectable book character? Yeah, that seemed very appropriate.
> 
> Thanks for the support!


End file.
